Cough Syrup
by TheInvisibleTeen
Summary: Blaine wrote so many letters when he was younger as a diary, but now his letters are rediscovered.  M for self harm  Klaine
1. Chapter 1

"_Blaine?"_

"No this is Patrick," Blaine laughed as he picked up his phone.

"_God why do I let you out?"_

"Now you sound like River Song," Blaine laughed, setting down his pen and ignoring his homework, leaning back against the side of his bed from his seat on the floor of his bedroom.

"_You watch too much TV Blaine,"_

"Hey! You love me for it!" Blaine laughed.

"_Oh Blainers" _Kurt sighed through the other end of the phone. Blaine's heart jumped at Kurt's nickname for him, the same one he'd been stuck with for nearly 4 years but not cared at all at how embarrassing it was, all because he got to be best friends with Kurt for it.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Blaine said, trying to get the conversation back on track to where Kurt had probably intended it to go.

"_Guess what movie I just found that we're totally watching this weekend?"_

"Erm... no idea," Blaine said.

"_Hot Fuzz!" _Kurt squealed happily. _"Remember how we used to eat crap-loads of sugar and go totally hyper and have all those pretend gun fights whilst watching this film?"_

"How could I forget?" Blaine laughed. "Wait, is this weekend my house or yours?"

"_Mine. Plus, Finn's gonna be out at Puck's for a sleepover and I don't have Cheerios practice Saturday morning so I don't have to get up until I feel like it, so basically this weekend is going to be so much fun!"_

"Why isn't it Friday already?" Blaine whined playfully, slumping down his bed until he was practically lying down on the floor and probably crumpling the pages of the book he'd been studying from.

"_Because it's Wednesday and because the universe is already trying to stop us from watching one of our favourite movies ever," _Kurt laughed.

"Urgh, stupid Thursdays and school and homework," Blaine complained, making Kurt laugh the laugh that just did something to Blaine's insides and turned them to a mush of butterflies.

"_Well, just to make this weekend even more fun then, I'm totally going to buy a whole load of sugar-filled foods to eat on Friday night. So it can be just like those good times and stuff. Plus I'm so fed up of this stupid diet Sue makes us stick to I need a respite from it for at least a weekend,"_

"I can't believe you actually survive on that diet. I would've like, died of hunger if I'd been on it for as long as you have," Blaine said jokily. It was weird to look back and see that Kurt had been a Cheerio for two full years now and the entire time he'd been a cheerio he'd stuck to this diet. It had not helped Blaine at all that Kurt had managed to get seriously fit during this time and this only made it harder to hide his feelings for Kurt. He was pretty certain Kurt hadn't noticed and had no idea how he still managed it.

"_Well you become used to it I guess," _Kurt mused. _"But I am so looking forward to all the junk I'll eat this weekend."_

"I'm looking forward to getting to see you eat something **real** for once," Blaine said.

"_Blaine,"_ Kurt said, his tone almost complaining. _"You know how important it is for me to stay on this diet if I want to stay a Cheerio,"_

"I know. But it doesn't mean I have to like it," Blaine said. They'd had this argument so often and Blaine never won. He knew how important it was for Kurt to be a Cheerio and, whether he liked to admit it or not, Kurt's being a Cheerio meant that he ended up with less crap from the football team because he was Kurt's best friend.

"_**Anyway**__... My house, Friday, and let's say 6 because I want to spend as much of this weekend doing absolutely nothing as possible and six should be long enough for me to get most of my homework done I reckon. Sound like a plan?"_

"A very good plan," Blaine smiled.

"_Good. I'll see you tomorrow B," _Kurt said happily.

"See you tomorrow," Blaine said before Kurt hung up. Blaine sighed to himself and grabbed the stress ball from the top of a pile of clothes he'd been meaning to put away that were crumpled on his bedroom floor. He squeezed it in his hand, enjoying the way the foam shrank away under his muscles before throwing it in annoyance at himself. It ricocheted around his room before bouncing into his closet and bringing something down with a small crash. Blaine winced at the sound before sighing and heaving himself off the floor and tidy up.

Pulling open his closet door properly he saw a three large shoeboxes had tumbled to the floor. The first had opened to reveal a pair of shoes that he'd never in a million years dared wear, their hideous bold pattern screamed '_I have no idea how to dress myself_' but had been given to him by a grandparent and he dared not throw them away for fear of his parents catching him and reprimanding him. The second and third boxes contained (or had until a moment ago) stacks of sheets of paper. Blaine lifted one up to scrutinise it before remembering what it was and dropping it immediately as if it would burn him to keep in his in hands.

These were the letters he'd written... no... It had been so long since he'd thought of them. So long since that dark time in his life that no one knew about. The time when even during summer he hadn't worn anything but full length pants and taken to wearing that thick banded leather bracelet all the time to hide the scars. He'd managed to hide it so well he'd surprised even himself...

He picked up the papers gingerly, as if still scared they'd injure him, before pulling one open and rereading it. It was dated three years ago, and it was, just like the rest of them, addressed to Kurt. Blaine blinked back tears as he picked up a second and read it too, before skimming through a third, a fourth, a fifth. He was tempted to crumple them all, the bin them or burn them or just get rid of them. He was tempted to do something stupid like make a scrapbook of them all, take all the worst parts of his life and make them a reminder that he'd made it through all of them. But instead, what he was most tempted to do, was show them to someone. To show them who he really was.

It was a stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid idea. But now it had lodged itself in Blaine's head and he couldn't help but think about how he might do it, imagining scenes in his head of possible scenarios.

No.

No he couldn't.

Just as much as he couldn't tell Kurt he was in love with him.

Kurt didn't even know he was gay for Christ's sake. He'd come out to his parents last year and they'd been nothing but cold and unforgiving about it since. He'd not spoken another word about it to his parents but he'd overheard them talking about it angrily, about his father complaining that he would not have a gay son and that it was a phase.

He needed time to think about this, what, and more importantly if he was going to do anything with these letters. So he piled them back into their boxes, stowing them back away in his closet.


	2. Chapter 2

"Blainers! Are you ready to eat crap and watch old movies?" Kurt laughed happily as he opened the Humdel house door to Blaine on Friday .

"Totally," Blaine smiled. He was pulled inside and straight into the kitchen where Kurt returned quickly to a large pot. Blaine was about to ask what it was when it began popping faintly and he smiled.

"Already on the popcorn?" he laughed.

"It tastes so good and I haven't had it in months." Kurt said as he continued to shake the pot so that none of the kernels stuck to the bottom and burnt.

"What are we putting on them?"

"Anything high in sugar."

"You really are throwing away the diet this weekend," Blaine laughed.

"If we're revisiting how we used to be three years ago when we first watched this film then I'm going back to the diet I had three years ago."

"So it's just like it was three years ago?"

"Exactly. Except with the whole family and stuff because I can't and don't need or want to undo that. Because that's totally fine and stuff." Kurt rambled as the popping increased in frequency.

"Tell me, how much sugar have you eaten already?"

"Just like, I don't even know. I wasn't really paying attention. I was busy getting high off the idea that I could eat chips and stuff tonight without worrying about it because our workout on Sunday is sure to be enough to work it all off."

Blaine rolled his eyes at Kurt as the popping finally stopped and Kurt pulled the pot off the cooker and tipped the popcorn into a bowl that was laid out ready before shaking liberally sugar over the bowl.

"Goodbye 2012," Blaine laughed, "Hello again late 2008,"

* * *

><p>"Blaine?" Kurt asked curiously as he retuned from his shower the next morning, his voice slightly rough from having woken up not too long ago.<p>

"Yeah?" Blaine asked, rubbing a towel over his wet hair as he re-entered the room.

Re-entered the room and saw what Kurt had in his hands.

_Shit._

"Kurt... I uh... I'd rather you didn't read them, yet..." Blaine said nervously.

"But... I don't get it. They're addressed to me any everything." Said Kurt, his brain clearly not working yet, probably slow after yesterday's sugar high and subsequent hyperactivity.

"Kurt," Blaine said, walking over and placing his hands over Kurt's and the letters in his hands. "Not yet okay. Please?"

"I... okay..." Kurt gave in. "I need a shower anyway," Kurt reasoned. He let his hands slip out of Blaine's grasp, leaving the letters in Blaine's hands as he walked off groggily for the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Sometime later when he returned, Blaine's hair had almost dried fully though into it's ungelled mess, and he'd packed away his sleeping bag from the floor of Kurt's bedroom.<p>

"Blaine?"

Blaine looked up to see Kurt's hair was still wet and drooping into his eyes slightly. He ran his fingers through it to push it backwards and out of his face before sitting on the edge of his bed nervously.

"Are you going to tell me what the letters are about now?" he asked quietly. Blaine sighed but took them gingerly in his hands from out of his bag where he'd put them.

"Can I ask first why you found them?" Blaine asked.

"Sorry I... I was looking for my phone. I thought I'd put it down on the side but it wasn't there so I thought it might have fallen off the edge and into your bag." Kurt bit his lip nervously and sheepishly.

"It's okay. I just..." Blaine sighed, resting his head back against the wall of Kurt's room from his seat on the bed.

"I... these are from three years ago. I found them again a couple of days ago and haven't been able to stop thinking about them. And, through some sort of mad impulsive decision, I decided to bring them. I wrote them, along with... several more a long time back. I kinda used it as a diary, like... having someone to talk to just to get it out in some way shape or form. And after we met and became good friends it became you who I was addressing these to. But, I'm going to be a coward now and say that I want you to wait until I'm gone to read them because I can't even begin to imagine our reaction to what's within them. But I want you to not stop reading until you've read every last word, okay?"

Kurt looked at him with concern deep in his eyes and Blaine cringed internally at the sight.

"I'll go now so you can read them. Just... just don't hate me okay?"

"I could never hate you Blaine," Kurt said.

"I- just... read them." Blaine said, before lifting his overnight bag onto his shoulder. Kurt nodded and watched Blaine leave, confusion sweeping through him along with the already settled concern. He watched from his bedroom window as Blaine jumped into his car and drove off before sitting down on his bed and opening the first letter. He knew it was the first one because they had been numbered and he reckoned it had probably been rather recently. Either way, he unfolded the letter and read...


	3. Chapter 3

_(1) January 5th, 2009._

_Kurt._

_I'm so glad I have you to talk to now, even if it's not the same way as having a real person to talk to. It's nice though because you don't judge me in the way real people do. Because you never say anything back. That's because you'll never read these but I guess I'm glad. I don't think you'd still like me if you thought I was the kind of person who writes to a diary/fictitious version of a person at our age. It seems so childish but sometimes it's all I need. To be able to escape the locker shoves and name calling and just go home and write. Like, the work Fuck. It's so much fun to write. I don't know why, probably the way I can make all the letters all over the top in my slightly loopy handwriting but hey, fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm actually laughing slightly out loud because of how weirdly fun it is. I know I shouldn't because it's still a swear word and mom's always on about how I have to be the perfect gentleman so that one day I'll woo myself a girl and be the perfect husband.  
>I don't want that though. I don't want to be her idea of perfect, with her idea of a perfect girl. I bet she'd want someone who'd be some stereotypical trophy wife. That's probably what she wants. I don't know, I haven't outright asked her. But I don't even know if I want to find a girl. I don't see them in the way that I'm supposed to. In the way that people talk about in books and films and stuff. I don't see them and get a crush on them whenever they look pretty.<br>I don't know what to do though because I think mom would be mad if I told her I feel that way more about guys. But I can't help what I feel right? I can't help if my heart flutters when the guy I have a crush on walks past right? That's the way love works. You don't question it, it's just... there, I guess. I don't know. Kurt, if you had the answers for me then... I don't know but it would be really great. If, like, you stopped being just a name on paper and became like, an imaginary friend. But like, maybe not because I'm way too old for that now, but I don't know. Maybe something in that sort of way. In that way, shape or form as the saying is. I should make these letters shorter and get to the point more because I think if they always end up this long I'll start getting behind on homework and I can't do that. I'll write to you tomorrow Kurt._


	4. Chapter 4

_(2) February 14th 2009_

_Kurt._

_I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I'm scared that I have a crush on you. Because I don't want it to ruin everything because even though I'm fairly sure I am gay, I haven't told anyone, not even you (The real life you anyway). I should tell my parents but I'm not sure I can hack it. Maybe soon I guess. But Kurt I saw how upset you were because it was Valentine's Day today and nobody gave you a card. I wanted to. I really did. Even if I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be as a friend saying you're a wonderful person or as a guy who had a bit of a crush on you. I don't know.  
>I don't know.<br>Maybe that will become something else I'll write a lot, besides fuck. Because writing fuck makes me feel happier because it's fun to exaggerate the letters on the page and stuff, but I don't know... it's more like I'm not pretending to know what I'm doing. That's good though right? Because even if I pretend to know what I'm doing in the real life world I don't have to pretend to know what I'm doing in this world. Because this world is letters and ink and paper and fuck. Nothing to have to hide in here. This place is safe and nobody's mean. I'm going to stop here though because my arm hurts to write from where I smashed my shoulder into someone's locker today when I was pushed. I don't like lockers. They're not as helpful as they are harmful. And solid. Very solid. And they have sharp corners and heavy padlocks. I don't like lockers. At all._


	5. Chapter 5

_(3) May 12th 2009_

_Kurt._

_I don't like my parents much any more. I told them. Flat out told them that this is who I am. That I like guys and that this is who I am. And the way mom looked at me... she looked so disgusted. And dad, he just stood up and walked away for a moment before turning and pacing up and down for a while. I got really worried when he didn't say anything and told him to just say something, anything. You know what he said? He said it was just a phase! A **phase**. I can't believe he'd say that. That he doesn't like me anymore at all. I thought your parents were supposed to accept you and love you whoever you were. Because that's what parents do. They have children so they can love them. Right? I'm not sure anymore. I mean, I know that's what they're supposed to do, but I don't think my parents are good parents anymore. They just want me to marry a girl and be a lawyer, just like dad did. I don't want it at all though. I want to perform! It's much more fun and I'm good at it. I'm okay at math and calculus and stuff, but just the idea of law bores me to death. And I don't want that. Not at all. I don't know what I'm going to do now. I don't know._

* * *

><p>This letter was slightly blotchy where the ink had smudged. Kurt had no doubts that Blaine had cried writing it and Kurt was crying silently too. Oh Blaine.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

_(4) June 3rd 2009_

_Kurt._

_I'm probably a bad person. But I don't feel like one. But I feel like I should feel like a bad person. Because I did today what you're not supposed to do. But it was there and I just wanted something to feel real and like it meant something. So I'm going to wear my leather wristband until it heals. Because it felt so good, so real. But it's bad to harm anything right? It sort of grounded me, cleared my head a little because I knew it was real. I could feel it for certain and I look at my wrist now and see it's real. It's still there. I'm sort of... I don't know. I know it's bad to do but it feels to good to know that I'm not imagining something or that I'm not putting on a mask that I sort of want to keep doing it. Fuck, I got my blood on the page. Sorry. Oh well, its not doing the page any harm I guess. Or me, I mean, the cut has pretty much stopped bleeding now anyway. I wont put a band-aid over it though because people will ask how I managed to cut myself there and I can't think of any good excuse, not right now anyway. The leather bracelet it thick enough to definitely cover it and I can just sort of wear it all the time now. Just as one of those little habits people have. Like how Rachel always puts a star next to her name. Or how Tina stutters. If I'm honest, I don't think she always stutters. If she gets really into a conversation or lost in a moment sometimes she doesn't stutter for ages. Maybe it's just confidence in the moment but I think she only stutters when she thinks about it and maybe doesn't really stutter. I don't judge her for it. I really don't. I guess it's her way of coping with life. I have my letters, and possibly now my blade, and she has her stutter. I wont take her up on why she does it, confront her or anything. I'm not mean like that to point it out. I hope she realises she doesn't need it though. We still like her for the person she is when she doesn't stutter. I guess I can't really talk though because nobody knows I write these letters and I'm not going to let anyone know I've cut myself on purpose today. I'm alright though. I'm coping and that's what counts. Right?_

* * *

><p>True to Blaine's writing, there were faint red stains over parts of the letter with smudges from where Blaine had tried to wipe it off. Kurt's memory jumped at the words of Blaine's leather bracelet. Kurt had asked him about it when he'd first worn it. Blaine had said he'd bought it recently and when Kurt had spotted that he'd worn it for a week straight, Blaine had explained that he really liked it and decided it would be his thing. He'd ditched his bowties shortly afterwards, explaining that the wristband was a lot more fashionable than the bow ties. But Kurt had always secretly liked the bowties...<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

_(5) November 5th 2009._

_Kurt._

_I haven't written to you very often over the summer. I spent a lot of my time with the real you and never took off the bracelet. I knew you'd worry. But now we're back at school and I can wear pants again instead of shorts and I've started cutting my legs. Just like, right at the bottom of my ankle really. I'm still a little worried I'm going to be forced to wear shorts in gym and that people will see. Especially if the scars are so red and fresh. It's nice though; to have my coping method. Because after the end of last year and Quinn had her baby and Tina told everyone about how she didn't really stutter. And then Santana confessed she actually really liked glee club and we had a whole big confessions sort of thing. I didn't confess much. Nobody knew about any of my cutting, or that I'm gay or still pissed off at my parents for how they reacted. Nobody knows that I'm not fine. So I just admitted that I was glad I'd found a place like glee where I fitted in and that I didn't want to be a lawyer like mom and dad want me to be. That I want to be a performer; to sing or dance or act or all three! That's who I am and who I want to be. And I don't know, but one day I won't need to cut to feel grounded. One day I guess. I don't know... I don't know._


	8. Chapter 8

_(6) February 13th 2010._

_Kurt._

_I want to tell you I'm in love with you. I know I am but I can't say it out loud. I'm too scared. You don't even know I'm gay, let alone that I've had a crush on since at least this time last year. I read somewhere that if a crush lasts longer than, like two months or something, then it's not a crush it's love. But, I guess I've known it for a while. I'm not sure how long I can pretend I don't see you that way. I'm going to keep pretending I think. I don't know. But I don't want me telling you I'm in love with you to change how you see me. I don't want to stop being your best friend. But if you don't like me that way I don't want to loose you because you think it's weird to be best friends and spend to much time with just me when I'm stupidly and madly in love. With you. I...  
>I don't know Kurt. Fuck I don't know.<br>I don't know anything.  
>At. All.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_(7) April 16th 2010._

_Kurt._

_I'm so seriously toying with telling everyone I'm gay. I don't want them to freak the way my parents did though. And they were the ones that are supposed to love me either way. Friends don't have to do that. They can drift out of your life if or storm out if they really want to. And I'm not sure I could handle that. I'm not sure I could find space under my leather band or up my shins that isn't already scared or healed enough for it not to make a difference if I cut there again. That sounds horrible to read back on paper. That sounds horrible and needy and damaged. I'm not damaged. I'm not broken or going through a phase or damaged. I'm fine. I'm coping. That's what we're all doing. Coping, right? It would suck to find out I'm the only one who's like this. That would make me feel screwed up. Fuck._


	10. Chapter 10

_(8) April 24th 2010._

_Kurt._

_I don't think I'll ever tell anyone about who I am. About this, the cutting or being gay. It's too much. And, it's not long anyway until I graduate. It's only two years. If I've managed this long since I realised without anyone wondering then I could totally manage. Right? Yes. I think... I don't know. Fuck, Kurt I don't know. I wish I was talking to the real you and you would just tell me to shut up and that it would all be okay. I want you to tell me you wouldn't hate me for feeling this way or thinking these things or writing like this. I want to be loved. Is it too much to ask for your parents to love you? Is it too much to ask for the person you love to love you back? It happens all the time in movies and books. I'm going to read more I think. It's nice to get lost in books because there nothing can harm you. And if the book gets sad you stop reading. If it's boring then you can always skip to the interesting bit. You can imagine your own little scenes of how you wonder, what if this person had said this instead? How would that have worked out? Would it have made a difference? But then I think of how I'm thinking about would it make a difference if I told you I'm in love with you. And I know it would but I don't know in what way. I know it would but I don't know how.  
>I don't know how.<br>Fuck._


	11. Chapter 11

_(9) May 12th 2010._

_Kurt._

_This is the last time I'll write to you. I don't know when I decided I should stop but I should. It isn't doing me good anymore. It just isn't. You did. So much. But I have to start living my life without secrets. And even if I don't tell anyone about how I'm gay. Or how I love you. Or how I'm still cutting. No, I think I'll have to stop that too. Because when people know you do those sorts of things they don't ever look at you the same. They see some, emo, depressed, attention-seeking kid. But that's not who I am. I don't ask for the spotlight. I'm not depressed. I'm not emotionally unstable. I'm just a little confused about how I should feel. What I should do. But it's fine to admit you don't know so I'm fine. I'm fine.  
>Maybe if I write it enough times I'll start believing it wholly and truly.<br>I'm fine.  
>I need to find my blade...<br>I found it. Goodbye Kurt. It was great to talk to you all this time. You're the best imaginary friend I've ever had. And I'll never replace you. Wow I'm getting emotional about stopping writing to someone who doesn't exist. Maybe I really am emo... Oh fuck._


	12. Chapter 12

_(10) Yesterday. Well, it will be by the time you read this. I doubt I'll give it to you before the morning..._

_Kurt._

_You've read the letters I wrote to the imaginary you. You know me. And now you know the me I never let show. I shouldn't have kept it a secret all this time but I couldn't face it. I can't face it. That's why I'm not there now. I just... can't.  
>I'm sorry Kurt. The real Kurt. I'm not the person you thought you knew because I'm more. But I'm probably not the good kind of more. But I guess I can't judge fairly. Not really. I'm sorry. I love you and I've never said it to your face. I'm gay and I've never told anyone. I self-harm and nobody knows. Not even my parents. I'm sorry, you deserve someone better. Who's real and isn't constantly wearing a mask or cutting themselves. I'm sorry Kurt.<em>

_Just,_

_Don't hate me._

* * *

><p>"Blaine... Blaine I could never hate you," Kurt mumbled to himself, his tears falling thick and fast.<p>

"What am I still doing here?" Kurt asked himself, wiping away his tears. He stood quickly and ran towards the bedroom door.


	13. Chapter 13

Blaine was curled up on his bed. Curled as tight as he could, arms wrapped one around his head, the other around his knees that were up at his chest. The leather bracelet on the floor, halfway up the stairs. His shoes somewhere along with them. His head a mess. His mind blank and empty but full of questions and answers and worries and doubts.

He sung to himself quietly, his voice merely a whisper in his empty house.

_Life's too short to even care at all oh,  
>I'm losing my mind losing my mind losing control,<br>If I could find a way to see this straight,  
>I'd run away,<br>To some fortune that I should have found by now..._

_So I run now to the things they said could restore me,  
>Restore life the way it should be,<br>I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down..._

'If only,' he thought, 'If only I knew what would be my cough syrup. If it was a thing, something tangible that I could need to be better. To feel. To see.'

And then he knew what it was. The thing that had grounded him so many times. He slid slowly from under his blanket, his limbs heavy as he padded towards the bathroom. He dug his razor blade out of the back of the cabinet in his bathroom, washed it once for his paranoia before letting it slide across his skin.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He let the blade drop into the sink with a clatter and watched as the blood dribbled slowly in too. The red on white gave an odd artistic affect and Blaine was so glad he'd found something like this to ground himself, all those years ago. He had no idea what he would've done without it. He let the blood slowly begin to thin before turning on the faucet and letting the rest of it wash away. His blood looking like ink as it created patterns on its way down the drain. He slumped over and leant against the sink, one hand either side to take his weight as he just stood there for a moment. Chastening himself for being so dramatic about all this, he shuffled back into his bedroom where he sat in a corner and bunched up again. And that was where he stayed, singing again softly to himself.


	14. Chapter 14

It was a good thing that Kurt had a key to Blaine's house. He'd had it almost as long as he could remember. Not long after his and Blaine's sleepover's had become frequent and the norm. He rapped quickly on the door, calling out Blaine's name to no answer before letting himself it.

"Blaine!" he called out to the seemingly empty house. He checked the downstairs rooms before finding the stairs. Blaine's shoes were left part of the way up and Kurt couldn't resist the urge to tidy them away. He grabbed them and left them neatly inside the shoe rack in the cupboard under the stairs before racing back up again. He was on the third to last step when he spotted Blaine's thick leather wristband lying on the landing. Open. With a red tinge to the inside of it. Kurt bent slowly and picked it up, examining the permanent red stain of blood and how the buckle was so worn out. He clasped it in his hand for a moment before he heard soft singing.

_"Life's too short to even care at all oh,  
>I'm losing my mind losing my mind losing control,"<em>

"Blaine?" Kurt asked timidly. He pushed open his bedroom door, which thankfully wasn't locked, before spotting the small boy looking smaller than ever as he hunched in the far corner. His face was buried in his knees and a red stain was forming where his wrist met his jeans.

"Blaine!" Kurt said, rushing forward to kneel in front of him.

"Blaine look at me," Kurt tried, lifting his head gently, tilting him chin upwards. But Blaine kept his eyes firmly closed.

"Blaine."

Blaine shook his head and leant his head backwards against the walls.

Kurt was reeling inside: How deep had he cut himself? Was how much had he already bled? Was he trying to kill himself or just self-harm? Blaine. Blaine. Blaine.

Kurt held a hand gently against Blaine's cheek and Blaine almost cringed away from it. Kurt took a deep breath before closing the small distance between them, pressing his lips to Blaine's in the way he'd dreamed of so many times, wishing that Blaine could return those feelings and now he had all along.

Blaine gasped and almost jerked back but his head was already against the wall so instead opened his eyes. Kurt pulled back and looked deep into Blaine's now open eyes.

"Blaine." Kurt said. But he couldn't find any more words and neither could Blaine. So instead he settled for connecting their lips again. This kiss was more desperate, more intense. Kurt kept his hand gently pressed to Blaine's cheek was felt his heart leap as Blaine returned the gesture. Slowly Kurt managed to get Blaine to uncurl from his crouch and sit up on his knees, keeping their lips connected as Blaine gingerly let his other arm rest around the back of Kurt's neck. Kurt pulled back, resting his forehead against Blaine's and taking a deep breath, enjoying that scent that just was Blaine.

"Come here," he said softly, pulling Blaine to his feet. Blaine followed slowly, letting Kurt lead him by the hand onto the bathroom. Kurt found a facecloth and wetted it in the sink. He dabbed carefully and tentatively at the bloody gashes on Blaine's arm, cleaning them up as carefully as he could, watching all the time for Blaine's reaction. He rooted in the cupboard and found a bandage and carefully wrapped it securely around Blaine's wrist. When it was secured, he pressed a soft kiss to the stark white bandage before holding Blaine's hand in his own.

"Blaine,"

He didn't say anything. He just stared at the floor, shuffling his feet.

"Blaine, please. Look at me," Kurt tried. Finally Blaine looked up but his eyes seemed hollow.

"Please. Never... please don't hurt yourself like this. I can't believe I never noticed this before and I'm kicking myself for it. I... Blaine I feel like such an idiot... I... Blaine I've been in love with you since... since I don't even know anymore. Since we first met maybe? I... and I can't believe I never... never told you or... I was so scared that you weren't even gay and that I was just falling in love with someone who wasn't even interested in guys. I should've just told you so, so long ago now. Oh Blaine, I'm such an idiot." Kurt couldn't face it anymore and ducked his own head and let himself slump forwards. His forehead coming to rest on Blaine's shoulder and he was surprised to find Blaine's arms wrapping themselves around Kurt's shoulders. Blaine took the wet facecloth and dabbed at the side of Kurt's neck, wiping away the splotches of blood that had transferred when Blaine had had his arms around Kurt's neck.

"I'm sorry Blaine," Kurt sniffed, letting his tears slide down his face. "I'm a terrible friend,"

"You're not." Blaine said, finally speaking. "You just saw me how I wanted you to. It's not your fault I got good at hiding,"

"But I should've known! I... I should've known..." Kurt sobbed.

Now it was Blaine's turn to pull Kurt. He led him gently back to the bedroom before pulling him onto the bed and into his lap.

"Kurt, it's okay. I'm okay," Blaine tried, soothingly running his fingers through Kurt's hair.

"Blaine..." Kurt whimpered, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He leaned into Blaine's side and buried his head in his jumper. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't be like this... I..."

"Sh... shh it's okay." Blaine shushed, pressing a kiss onto Kurt's forehead.

"I... I need you Blaine," Kurt sniffed, tilting his head up to connect his lips with Blaine's. Blaine let go and just forgot about everything. He forgot about the dull, weak pain at his wrist. He forgot about his blotchy red eyes. He forgot about the letters and hiding himself and how he hadn't told anyone he was gay. He lost himself in Kurt's lips and his smell and the way Kurt moaned lightly as Blaine pulled him close. He lost himself in Kurt. He wanted to stay that way forever. Kurt, the person he'd been in love with for so long, was finally here, finally their lips were connected. And he never wanted it to stop.


End file.
